Clune gave her a tolerant smile. “Sin and I have been friends forever. The worst he will do is plant me a facer, but I’m willing to risk it.”
She’d heard enough boxing cant from her brother to understand his meaning, but she wondered if Damien would be content with only throwing a punch.
“Naturally I have no intention of actually putting you on display,” Clune added, “but merely giving the suggestion of it. I’m afraid, however, that I must lock you in here for a short while to prevent your attempting escape.”
She stared at him.
“I hope you will make yourself comfortable, my lady. I will send a maid up with some tea-or wine, if you prefer.”
“How generous of you,” Vanessa said, her tone scathing.
Without replying, he withdrew and closed the door softly behind him. Vanessa flinched when she heard the key turn in the lock.
Still somewhat dazed by her abrupt change in circumstances, she moved across the room to the window, only to discover it locked also. Even if she broke the glass, it was rather a long jump to the gravel below. She was likely to break an ankle, or worse.
Vanessa took a steadying breath to calm her nerves. It wasn’t as if she were truly captive. The footman at Rosewood knew where she had gone.
Even so, she hadn’t divulged a word about Damien’s alleged accident for fear of alarming the entire household. They would think she was with him and wouldn’t worry if she didn’t return home before this evening…
She turned away to pace the room. She would not allow herself to panic. Damien wasn’t hurt, that was the important thing. She could bear the embarrassment of Clune’s outrageous prank if she had to. And it looked as if she might have no choice but to go along.
Her anger swelling anew, Vanessa grimaced in disgust. She was getting a taste of the disreputable life she had chosen, and, frankly, it repulsed her. Even so…
She didn’t know whether Clune was acting for his own amusement or out of spite, but in either event, she might be wiser to play his game. If Damien saw her outrage, it would only fuel his own. If this farce, however, could avoid being turned into a public spectacle, perhaps then she could manage to salvage some shred of reputation.
The hunting party returned in a jovial mood and settled in the gun room with glasses of ale all around, exchanging tall tales of past shooting exploits under the benign surveillance of the stags’ heads mounted on the walls.
Damien was silent, his thoughts miles away rather than with his Hellfire colleagues. He’d found it nearly impossible to keep up the pretense of enjoyment. The endless pursuit of pleasure had palled entirely-
A burst of laughter interrupted his seditious reflections. Awareness returning, Damien realized that Clune was scrutinizing him thoughtfully.
“Is something on your mind?” Damien asked.
“Indeed there is. I’ve arranged a surprise for you.” The earl flashed a secretive smile that Damien didn’t much care for, and then turned to their American guest. “Sabine, you haven’t had the pleasure of experiencing our initiation ritual into the Hellfire League. You have a real treat in store.”
Several voices seconded the observation as glasses were raised.
“Oh?” Sabine murmured noncommittally. “What might that be?”
“You have to satisfy a court of maidens,” Lord Thornhill replied.
“A court?”
“A dozen beauties plus a queen.”
“ “Tis little more than an orgy,” someone else remarked amicably.
“You have it wrong,” Pendergast disagreed. “It’s a test of how long you can stay aroused without spending.”
“You must prove,” Clune explained, “that you possess the stamina to service the entire court before dawn. They then pass judgment on your performance and score how well you bring them to pleasure.”
“We’ve all been through it,” Thornhill commented, “with varying degrees of success.”
Cheatham laughed. “Devil a bit. The year Penny was inducted he nearly expired, the queen drained him so dry.”
“By Jove, so did I. I’ve never fucked so hard in my life.”
Ribald laughter was followed by several admiring remarks about Sin holding the record for most accolades of any court. Damien modestly acknowledged their praise by lifting his glass.
“If your cock passes inspection,” Penny added, “you become a full-fledged member in the Hellfire League-pun intended.”
Nicholas Sabine smiled wryly at the strained humor.
Another lewd joke or two ensued before Chine regained control of the conversation. “Since Lambton couldn’t be here, and I am acting as host, I’ve begun arrangements for an induction ceremony later in the week. I’m pleased to report, gentlemen, that I’ve found the perfect queen to reign over the proceedings. But I should like Sin’s approval before I make the final decision.” He glanced at Damien. “Will you accompany me upstairs to inspect my choice?”
“You have her here?” someone asked.
Clune nodded. “Yes. And you will be hard-pressed to imagine a lovelier queen. But as Sin is the noted expert, his blessing is warranted.”
“By all means show him this beauty you promised us,” Cheatham said.
A chorus of male voices indicated agreement with the suggestion.
Something in Clune’s tone made Damien suddenly wary, but he reluctantly acceded to the plan. Rising, he accompanied the earl up the stairs and along the hall.
Clune rapped gently on the door and unlocked it. Then, with a grin at Damien like a cream-fed cat, he swung open the door.
A woman stood at the window, her back to them, yet her silhouette was heart familiar. When she turned slowly to face him, Damien went rigid.
Vanessa returned his gaze levelly, her lustrous midnight eyes cool and unwavering.
His gaze shot to Clune, who maintained an owl-eyed look of innocence. “What the devil is the meaning of this? What is she doing here?”
“She will make a perfect queen, don’t you think?” Clune queried in a silken tone.
Damien clenched his fists at the thought of Vanessa being the prime attraction of an orgiastic ritual. “You intend her to rule the ceremony?” His eyes narrowed with disbelief. “And you agreed?” he demanded of Vanessa.
Clune replied for her. “She hasn’t yet consented to be our queen, though I tried to persuade her.” He cast Damien a probing glance. “Truthfully, Sin, I brought her here merely to see your reaction.”
“My reaction?” Staring at him, Damien recalled the locked door and Clune’s speculative glances earlier. Vanessa wasn’t here willingly then. A quiet, poisonous rage surged through him.
“You bastard…” Lunging unexpectedly, he grabbed Clune’s cravat and pushed him from the room, forcing him against the hall’s far wall with a resounding thud. “Is this reactive enough for you?”
The earl gave a triumphant laugh, despite his friend’s ferocity. “Quite. I never expected you to permit anyone to touch her.”
“By the blazes,” Damien gritted out through clenched teeth.
Chine bared his own teeth in a taunting grin. “I thought you claimed indifference, Sin. If you aren’t besotted, then why does the prospect of her becoming our queen upset you so?”
Tight-lipped with fury, Damien increased the vise of his hand. “She is under my protection, damn you!”
Clune had difficulty speaking with the grip on his throat. “You… are still… deluding yourself, my friend.”
Damien’s fist tightened further in the silk. When Clune made a choking sound, Vanessa protested behind him, “Damien, stop… you’re hurting him!”
Just then almost a dozen Hellfire League members appeared at the far end of the hall, apparently alerted by the commotion.
“What the devil is going on?” Thornhill exclaimed.
“Damien, stop… please…” Vanessa implored anxiously, but he refused to loosen his grip.
When Clune’s strained face turned crimson from lack of air, several gentlemen voiced protests of concern and alarm. Finally one of them physically intervened.